


Only Hope

by MagnoliasInBloom



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 23:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21364513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnoliasInBloom/pseuds/MagnoliasInBloom
Relationships: Jamie Fraser & Murtagh Fraser
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Only Hope

The dank prison cell rustled and heaved slightly with the coughs and snores and groans of its inmates. Jamie tugged the rough blanket tighter around his shoulders, turning to face the heat of the peat fire.

It was the witching hour. It had to be. Because _she_ was there with him.

He had awakened after a fitful sleep, sure that it was her arm around his middle, clasping his own hand. He could feel her breath, warm and light, on his neck. He had smiled, holding her hand to him, before waking in the hell that was Ardsmuir.

How long had it been? How old was the bairn now?

Casually wiping away the tear that trickled down his cheek, he only succeeded in smudging the dirt already present. Staring at him across the cell was Murtagh. Jamie wanted to feel embarrassed for this momentary lapse, but he was too tired and heartsick to manage it.

He shook his head, curling further inwards. His godfather clambered over the dozing bodies that crept ever closer to the fire for warmth. He sat next to Jamie and gazed into the flames.

“Aye, lad. I ken well what ails ye.” Murtagh picked at a spot on his bedraggled shirt and tossed it into the hearth.

“Why don’t ye tell me, since ye seem so keen and all.” Jamie gave up on sleep and straightened up; the blanket a poor substitute for his wife’s body heat.

“’Tis the lass. It gets ye in the wee sma’s, that fierce longing that gnaws and aches like a knife in yer guts.”

Jamie swallowed. He remembered his godfather had loved and lost, once upon a time. “It does, that.”

“Does it help… perhaps… to think that she’s nae dead, but simply gone?” Murtagh’s cough flared up, and Jamie pounded him on the back. “Through the stones?”

“Gone. Aye.”

“In her time—ye said. There’s food and peace and clean water. She’d be well cared for.”

“I hope so. That’s why I bade her go back.” Jamie hesitated. “Her and the bairn.”

Murtagh’s eyes grew wide. “Bairn?”

Jamie scrubbed at his face with his grimy hand, willing the knot in his throat to dissolve. “She was with child. She was starving with the rest of the army, pale, weak, and pregnant.” He cleared his throat. “We didnae think—after Faith. We never dared hope.” So the words he had held so dear to his heart for years, finally escaped with a shaking breath and betrayed the despair that held him fast.

“If she is in the future, as ye say, with physicians to tend to her—would she be alright?” Murtagh laid his hand lightly on Jamie’s shoulder, willing him comforted.

“I pray. Every moment. Even though I have no way of knowing. I pray she might be safe, her and the child.”

His godfather’s hand squeezed gently. “Then so will I.”


End file.
